


Who Wants To Live Forever?

by SimplisticDreams



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplisticDreams/pseuds/SimplisticDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was Slaine, sitting on a creaking, decorated, wooden chair, peering over a bed with canopies draping all around it.  He stared intently towards the motionless figure whose head laid perfectly on the feather pillow.  When my gaze followed his, I swear I laid my eyes on the fairest maiden I had ever seen. // [Aldnoah.Zero Vampire AU/SureAse/Two-shot maybe?]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Wants To Live Forever?

**Author's Note:**

> There was a lot of talk of Vampire AU Aldnoah fics in the blue rose network chatroom, it was contagious, and it went all downhill from there. XD I also was heavily inspired after watching the music video for "Who Wants to Live Forever?" cover by The Tenors. So if you like, to get the kind of feel I'm aiming for, go ahead and look up that song on Youtube. It's a really stunning song that I highly recommend.

Slaine Troyard was a man of interest to me—or rather, a _vampire_ of interest. I met him one night at the town pub. And before you think anything of it, no, he wasn’t even holding a drink in his hand. He wasn’t sitting at the bar or let alone a table. He was huddled in some dark corner merely staring at the crowd, which was full of tipsy men bumbling around stools and bumping into tables in drunken stupor. As comical as that sounds, he did not even have a smile on his face.

Normally, I would have dismissed it. Normally, I would have taken him to be some distant stranger. Normally, I would have just went about my writing the next day and completely forget about him. There was something in his eyes piercing out from the darkness that drew me to him. It was a deep melancholy that reflected from his glassy gaze; but behind that sadness seemed to be vast wisdom drawn out by time. His eyes then locked into mine and before I knew it, I was walking towards him as if I was drawn into some spell.

As I moved closer to him, his gaze followed me upward, looking to my standing form as he remained seated on a creaking, wooden chair. The look in his eyes was the same, except for a new spark of interest that came with my presence.

“Good evening,” I began, since he kept his lips closed, “What brings you here tonight without a pint of ale in your hand?”

His shadowy form shifted, his stare faltering a little, moving from side to side. He hugged his cloak around him just a little tighter, shivering from some imaginary cold. When he didn’t respond, I pressed him once more.

“Pray, tell me what has you looking so downtrodden when there is plenty of merriment here?”

“I cannot feel merriment. My state of mind has been thus for a long time,” his voice was breathy, yet it seemed to resonate to every corner of my soul.

“What sort of thing would cause you to feel this way?” I inquired.

I could feel my voice trembling; it was as if the flesh of my body was telling me that I was in some deep danger, yet my mind was ensnared on this subject.

“I can see that your human nature has been bewitched,” he muttered bitterly.

His words seemed to ring true in my ears. Part of my body did seem to be out of my control from the moment when my gaze locked with his. But even so, his very nature was intriguing and I would not have forgotten him, even if I wasn’t under his spell or so he said. I told him this and he chuckled—but it was dark and sounded like forced breaths.

“Perhaps so, but it might have been wise to forget me so you could take back that human part of you.”

“You speak as though you are apart from humanity.”

His eyes flashed then—another spark of interest.

“How very perceptive of you.”

For once, my tongue was bound. The noise of the pub fell silent around me as if my ears closed. A chill crawled from my head to all of my limbs. My flesh was crying for me to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. Realization dawned on me.

“Are you—”

“A vampire? Yes,” He spoke with melancholy once more.

Only at that moment did I feel regret—deep regret for having confronted him. But it would be the only and last time I would feel in such a way.

“Have you come here to select your prey?”

“Prey? No. I have only come here to try to remember what it was like to be human,” He spoke desperately, nearly like a confession,” I cannot bear to prey on humans.”

I could feel the warmth return to my body, but the silence around my ears remained; I was completely engrossed in his words now.

“So you were once a human? How long have you been a… a…”

“Just shy of a hundred years. Merely a speck in comparison to the long length of the years to some of the others.”

“Then it is true then? That humans can turn into vampires? Mr. ah…”

“Slaine Troyard. But please, just call me Slaine. And unfortunately, yes. When the fangs of a pureblood finds the neck of a human, and that human is forced to drink the blood of whom who feasted, then he will undergo a horrible transformation.”

At these words, an insatiable thirst to delve into his knowledge ensnared me. Even if my body may had been bewitched by his vampire nature, it was my immense curiosity that was driving me then. To my surprise, I was going against my usual logical nature.

“My name is Harklight,” I held out my hand to him, “I’m a travelling writer.”

Slaine reluctantly took my hand and weakly grasped it. I felt a chill travel up my arm when his skin contacted mine.

“Are you far from home, Mr. Harklight?”

“Quite. But I have been able to find many different characters to write about,” I drew my hand back and rubbed it, as if it has been wounded by his cold, “Mr. Troyard—”

“Please—Slaine.”

“Mr. Slaine,” I spoke with his first name hesitantly, “would you mind if I interviewed you? You must know that from a writer’s perspective your character is really, rather intriguing.”

Slaine chuckled darkly, and for a moment, I could see the points of his fangs gleaming in the candlelight, “Character, you say?” He thought for a moment before standing up, standing nearly eye to eye with me. He seemed to be a head shorter, “Very well. You have found my weakness of speech after all. And it has been rather long since I’ve had tolerable company. Would you come with me to my penthouse? We shan’t be disturbed there.”

It was then that I noticed that my ears had opened up again to the noise and bustle around me. A fight had broken out in the other corner of the pub—two bearded men held each other in headlock while the crowd around them threw up their pint glasses, yelling and cheering. A rain of ale was falling around them.

“Do you hesitate because you are to walk in a vampire’s lair? I promise no harm will come to you.”

I snapped my attention towards him, “Ah, of course,” I sputtered, “I trust you, Mr. Slaine. I can sense a certain peaceful demeanor in your presence despite your appearance.”

Slaine smirked, but there was still that same melancholy in his eyes, “How very trusting of you. I hope you do not find yourself with another vampire. Now come along. I don’t live far from here.”

And with that, we made our way through the crowd. I noticed Slaine was attempting to not contact anyone, and he kept his head low, eyes cast downwards. When we stepped outside, the difference between the warmth of the pub and the cool of the night was all too apparent. I had visibly shivered, shoving my hands into the pockets of my frock coat for warmth. Slaine, on the other hand, didn’t give any sign of discomfort—at least that’s what I had seen when I stared after his back.

On the way to his quarters, I had at one point caught up to his side and made idle conversation. I had noticed that Slaine was quite more talkative than back at the pub. He did indeed have a weakness for speech and he seemed so desperate to finally talk with someone. It seemed off in the distance, but the vision I saw of him was that of a little child relaying every detail of his day to his mother.

When we had reached his penthouse, I was alarmed to think that this was the home of a vampire. The parlor room we had walked into had chairs of a rococo style each with an end table which stood by a fireplace in which Slaine immediately attended to. He had walked around a coffee table of cherry wood with adorned legs. Dressers lined the walls here and there with the occasional Chinese vase of withering flowers. The only thing that gave way to what Slaine’s nature might have been was the heavy draperies that covered his windows. In the dim lighting of the parlor, they appeared jet black to me.

“Please, take a seat Harklight,” He gestured to the chair across from him as he seated himself, 

“Shall I call for some tea?”

“Tea?” I asked, “I thought vampires only drank…” I swallowed, the next word coming out a whisper, “blood…”

“Occasionally, we can indulge ourselves,” Slaine smiled, “much like how humans will eat cake—they’re better off without cake, but it’s for enjoyment really. But I must confess, my stomach can’t venture beyond tea.”

“Ah, I see,” I replied, fishing my notepad and pen out of the pocket in my jacket, “Then if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Eddelrittuo,”

“Yes, Milord Slaine?”

I was scared witless at the sound. It was the voice of a child suddenly next to me. I saw a baby face lurking in the darkness next to me, the hair on her head tightly tied back with a braid circling around her scalp.

“Would you bring us some tea, please?”

“Of course,” She bowed her head and disappeared again.

I looked to Slaine as if to find some assurance. He must have read my question before it had passed my lips, because he spoke not long after the young girl had gone.

“She’s my maid. Don’t worry, she won’t harm you unless I bid her to. I’m sure she’s already eaten by now.”

I shivered, “Then she’s also a vampire…?”

The smile on his face flickered with sadness, “Yes. She was also once human. Turned at a very young age, you see.”

After a moment of thought, I had pressed the tip of my pen to the first blank page available on my notepad. I had come to the first subject of my muse.

With some hesitation I started, “Mr. Slaine, may I ask how you… How you became a vampire?”  
“I knew that question would come sooner or later,” his fingers draped in front of his mouth from his arm being propped up on the arm of the chair. 

I could see the look of distant memories behind those pale fingertips. His eyes flickered to the now brightly burning flame for a while as if they would tell some story. I even had followed his gaze, but his voice caught me by surprise after the moment’s pause.

“I was turned by a woman who lusts after me. I am but a pet for her.”

“May I ask her name?”

“Lemrina Envers, a pureblood vampiress. A noble amongst us. I shan’t forget the night I was turned any time soon. 

Slaine’s voice then grew very tender as if the grief for him was still near, “My father was sick, you see. One night, his illness had a terrible grip on him and we were out of medicine. I rushed out into the cold and ran to the doctor to beg for medicine at the late hour. I did not have any trouble getting the medicine that my father needed—the doctor was a kind man. However, as I hurried back with snowflakes nipping at my skin, I expected to rush home and see my father as usual. I expected to hear his coughs, but see a smile fight through to thank me. But as they say as if it’s some cruel jest—‘life is full of surprises.’

“When I arrived home I did indeed see my father, but not as I had pictured—”

Slaine’s voice grew especially tender here. A brief moment of hesitation gripped him while he ran a few fingers through his hair. He looked up at me, tears at the corners of his eyes and smiled apologetically. For that moment, I saw a shadow of his humanity that he once had. Yet perhaps it was always there despite his seeming bitterness over being a vampire.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, no, it’s quite all right,” I sputtered, “I’m sorry to have asked you this question. You don’t have to answer it.”

“No,” Slaine cut in, sobering up slightly, “It’s all right, Mr. Harklight. Telling this story is a release of weight, you see.”

Slaine continued, his words slow and heavy. And I listened carefully, taking in and absorbing each word into my being.

“When I entered my father’s room, he was lying in a bloody mess. The blood was his own and his face looked pale and drained. The feeling in my fingers must have gone out, because I had dropped the medicine—I remember the bottle suddenly shattering and its contents spilling all over the floor. I couldn’t move. All I did—all I _could_ do was stare in complete and utter horror.

“It was then that I felt something swoop in around me. Then came a horrible pain at my neck that paralyzed me. I felt sick to my stomach and light and heavy at the same time—if that makes sense. When the pain stopped, I fell to the ground, my throat suddenly feeling terribly dry and sore. I could barely see anything beyond my faded vision. But I heard _her_ voice.

“It sounded like a deathly whisper, and almost mocking me somehow, ‘There, there. Easy now. Today is your lucky day, human. Here, drink my blood.’

“I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move. My throat was crying out at her mention of blood. But I wanted to run. However when the blood of her wrist met my lips, that insatiable thirst met me. I grabbed her arm and drank and drank and drank. I could hear her chuckling just beyond my gulps.

“The more I drank, the more chilled my body felt, but the more painless I became. Until suddenly, she drew her hand back.

“’That’s enough.’

“I saw her face then. Narrow eyes stared down at me and a grimace decorated with a tear drop lip filled my sight. Her ghostly lilac hair only added to her eeriness. And at that moment I was filled with a strange hatred while being incapable of parting from her gaze.

“’Welcome to immortality,’ she had said—the mocking tone returning.

“And I never saw another sunrise again.”

When Slaine stopped speaking, the silence sunk in like an arrow to my heart. Like blood oozing from a wound, fear chilled my poor human flesh. I looked at Slaine’s face and watched the light of the fire flicker and dance across his cheeks. He looked lost, staring in the fire and I swore that I had seen the scene replaying over and over in his eyes. It was then that I realized that this was the same look he had been carrying since I first saw him—no, rather since that night, most likely.

The only thing that woke me from my silent trance was the clinking of tableware coming towards us. Slaine stirred at this too, turning his head toward Eddelrittuo, who approached the coffee table between us with a tray carrying a very fine tea set. We watched her set the tray down and pour a cup for each of us before bringing each cup to our respective end tables.

“Thank you, Eddelrittuo,” Slaine murmured, his lips closing around the rim of his cup.

While I had my own cup in hand, I wondered if he felt the same things I did, being a vampire. Could he feel the warmth of the cup? The nearly scalding liquid streaming down his tongue? The shiver that would come when the brew warmed his stomach? He hardly seemed to react at all, but instead watched me carefully as I sipped my own drink.

I was still speechless after his story. And to carry on the conversation, the only thing that sputtered out of my mouth was,

“I’m sorry…”

“What fate has decided to lay on me has already been done. I cannot escape it nor can I fight it.”

“But what if,” I started, my voice sounding desperate, I could feel a few stray drops of tea touch my fingers as I put my cup to the saucer, “What if you could see some kind of chance? A chance to find happiness in your state? Would you fight against your fate for that?”

Slaine slipped his cup and saucer onto his end table and lifted the back of his hand to his chin in one seamless motion. He looked into the fire once more, seriously pondering my question. 

Then, tilting his chin towards me, eyes gleaming with hopelessness, he responded,

“Oh, Mr. Harklight… if only fate had that in store for me. After all, is there any of us who really wants to live forever?”

I looked down to his feet and it was in that moment that I truly sympathized with Slaine. There was a heaviness that weighed down on my heart and I could not imagine having to bear that pain for eternity. I placed my cup at my end table and once again took up my notepad, where not one word had been written. I looked up at Slaine again, attempting to stretch my mouth to feign a smile.

“Shall we talk about something a bit lighter? I’m sure you are in need of the company.”

Like a fleeting flame, a smile flickered on Slaine’s lips as he picked up his cup again. At this point Eddelrittuo had joined us at Slaine’s invitation. We had indulged in conversation well into the night and I had easily lost track of time. I dared not venture again to the story of his becoming a vampire, but rather how he would see the world differently; how a vampire could appreciate the night sky even more than a human was capable. And he would ask me about the goings on of simple things, like how people behaved at the market for example. Things of that nature. When weariness had begun to overcome me, I had gone through the formalities of thanking him for accommodating me, my notepad now full with notes. I had begged him to come the next night.

“Oh, no,” He had said, “It is rather dangerous for a human like you to be with a vampire like me too often. And I would not dare to have you meet my mistress.”

At his previous description of her in the first story he had told, I shivered at his mention. I did not want to see her either. The very thought of having to look upon her froze me to my soul.

“But I would like for you to come again. Please, tell me news again of your world. How about you come by next Thursday?”

I readily agreed. And when I had returned to my daily schedule and work, I would eagerly await the next Thursday. We would meet in his penthouse and talk and I would write my notes. Eddelrittuo would occasionally join us and would tell me a vampire’s life from her perspective. I would then grow weary and return home after making another appointment for the following week. This routine would carry on from week to week, our friendship weaving together more—it went on like this for roughly a month.

Then one bright, clear Thursday night, I arrived at Slaine’s penthouse at usual. Instead of Slaine, Eddelrittuo had answered my call. A certain seriousness and deep curiosity lit her eyes, and immediately I could feel that something had shifted us away from our usual routine. After inquiring as to where Slaine was, she quickly ushered me inside and led me past the parlor to another room—a bedroom. She stopped at the doorway, forbidding me from coming any closer, but prompted me to look inside.

There was Slaine, sitting on a creaking, decorated, wooden chair, peering over a bed with canopies draping all around it. He stared intently towards the motionless figure whose head laid perfectly on the feather pillow. When my gaze followed his, I swear I laid my eyes on the fairest maiden I had ever seen.


End file.
